


Make a Dream Last

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Dreaming, Heartache, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Staring at the ceiling in the dark<br/>Same old empty feeling in your heart<br/>'Cause love comes slow, but it goes so fast<br/>And you see him as you fall asleep<br/>Never to touch, never to keep</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Dream Last

**Author's Note:**

> "Let Her Go" - Passenger / ["Let Him Go (Cover" - Birdy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=As6sKLOoeYY)  
>  prompted by anonymous

_Staring at the ceiling in the dark  
_ _Same old empty feeling in your heart  
_ _'Cause love comes slow, but it goes so fast  
_ _And you see him as you fall asleep  
_ _Never to touch, never to keep_

*

"I dreamed about him again," Darren proclaims as he flops down into the empty seat at the breakfast bar. Joey looks across at him, still partly asleep, and pulls the spoon from his cheerio-stuffed mouth.

"Whaf?" Joey asks through his mouthful, pauses while he chews a little bit more, and is only a little clearer when he says, "Who?"

Darren cradles his head in his hand, like he's nursing a hangover rather than a recurring dream.

Well, not _exactly_ recurring. He's not really sure _what_ to call them, but they're certainly not normal.

" _Him_. That guy."

Joey is quiet except for the _crunch-crunch-crunch_ as he thoughtfully chews his cereal.

"Jake Gyllenhaal?" He guesses, and Darren lifts his head to give his roommate-slash-best-friend a thoroughly exasperated look. If he didn't feel so exhausted, he'd probably reach across the counter and smack him.

"What? _No_." Darren frowns. "That was just the one time." And he totally regrets telling Joey at all, because Joey never misses an opportunity to bring it up. "Remember how a few months ago I had a dream about that guy? And then he kept showing up, Joey. _That_ guy. _The_ guy. The—"

"Oh!" Joey snaps his fingers, eyes widening in realization—Darren can practically see the lightbulb turn on above his head. "Yeah. The dream guy. The not real one."

"He's—" Darren starts, but falters. He wants to contradict Joey, to say that he _is_ real, that he has to be. But the words don't come.

Darren has only ever seen him in his dreams, after all. How could he possibly be real?

*

"You came," he says, like he didn't think Darren would. He says it, and he smiles, and Darren realizes he might do anything to see that smile.

"Of course I did," Darren replies. Like he ever would not come. Like he ever _could_ not come. Darren doesn't know how the dreams work, if he has any control over them. As far as he can tell, they happen when they happen. But if Darren doesn't dream of him, then he can't exist to miss Darren, right?

"Of course," he whispers, looking down. He almost looks ashamed of himself, and Darren itches to be closer.

They're sitting down. Darren doesn't remember sitting down, but they are. The only table on a beautiful wooden terrace. Darren can hear the ocean, but he can't see it. It feels like maybe there should be food, but there's only a vase full of colorful cosmos flowers.

"Sometimes…" He starts, and then stops for a moment. "Sometimes I worry that you won't be here." He gives a humorless laugh and shakes his head. "I know that's stupid, but—"

"No." Darren swallows, and places his hand over the other boy's. "It's not stupid. To be honest, I worry about the same thing." He's tried not to. Worrying about it makes him feel crazy. These dreams aren't normal, this guy _isn't_ real, Darren should be trying to stop them not… Not closing his eyes at night and hoping for them. He shouldn't be waiting to close his eyes, just because he wants to see the mysterious dream guy that waits for him in the darkness of his eyelids.

But he does, all the same. And when he wakes up, he misses him.

"I'm… Afraid," Darren confides, because in the handful of months that this has been going on, now, Darren has never felt uncomfortable laying himself out here. No matter where his dreams put them—a beach, a bar, the middle of a field, a cabin surrounded by snow—Darren always feels safe. He wears his heart on his sleeve normally, but here it feels like he's plucked it off his body entirely and laid it in someone else's hands. In _his_ hands. "I'm afraid you're going to disappear."

 _He_ is silent, staring down at where Darren's hand is over his, a wrinkle between his brow and his teeth pressing into his bottom lip. He's thinking. It's moments like these, all these little, tiny, inconsequential things, that make him seem so real. It's moments like these where Darren forgets that all of this is just a dream.

"I propose a pact," he finally says, looking up to meet Darren's eyes. Darren raises his eyebrows expectantly, but doesn't say anything. "I don't disappear on you, and you don't disappear on me. Deal?" He grins a little bit at the end, and Darren can't help but smile back.

"Deal."

*

Darren hasn't told anyone but Joey about the guy in his dreams, and he's thankful. Joey hardly understands it, and Darren doesn't think anyone else would. He doesn't want everyone to think he's crazy—he already thinks it enough about himself these days.

He does what research he can on the internet, but the study of dreams ranges from incredibly scientific to… _Not_. The brain chemistry stuff makes his head spin, and sleep cycles seem irrelevant. But the _not_ scientific stuff doesn't seem to be pointing him in any clear direction either.

It's not a recurring dream, because they're never the same. The only thing they have in common with each other is _him_ , but that's it. The conversations that take place, the setting, what they're _wearing_ , it always changes.

Even the stuff about symbolism isn't all that helpful, because nothing really mentions random strangers he's never met. Darren does catch a few things about how the brain can't just create faces, that he must have _seen_ this guy somewhere—Darren sees a lot of people, it's _possible_ , but when he imagines the face, _his_ face, it's hard to think that he ever could have seen it in passing and not stopped completely in his tracks.

To add to the weirdness, Darren always remembers the dreams down to the exact details. He doesn't keep a dream journal or any of that shit, he just… Remembers, without even trying to. His dreams seem to expect that, too, because every time they happen, conversations are continued, or referenced.

If it was possible to meet someone for coffee within a dream, Darren is pretty sure that's what he'd compare his dreams to. But it's not possible, and so Darren is left at a loss.

He doesn't know what the dreams are, or what they mean, or why he's having them. But he does know he doesn't want them to stop, and he knows that's probably not a good thing.

*

"Want to know something stupid?" Darren asks. They're lying down side-by-side, staring up at a sky that is more periwinkle than blue. Everything that floats past his vision—birds, bugs, clouds—appears to be made out of folded paper.

"Hmm?"

Darren turns his head, staring at _his_ profile as he watches the paper clouds float above them.

"I don't know your name." Darren furrows his eyebrows. He's been having these dreams for so long, and yet… And yet, he never thought to ask for a name. "Do… Do you have a name?" Shouldn't Darren just instinctively _know_ it? After all, his head created this guy. It would make sense for the name to be in his psych somewhere.

He turns to look at Darren, blinking slowly and frowning slightly.

"Of course I have a name. Don't… Don't you?" He seems unsure, and it makes Darren want to laugh.

"Yes." Darren's eyes widen, and he's so amused at the fact that a figment of his own imagination _doesn't_ know his name. Yet, at the same time, saying it feels incredibly significant. His name curls up in his throat for a moment, a giant question mark. Like it wants Darren to be sure before he speaks it. "I'm Darren."

He smiles, and then Darren feels a hand close over his where they're sprawled out in the space between them.

"Nice to officially meet you, Darren. I'm Chris."

*

"Who's Chris?"

The question knocks Darren's words out of his throat halfway through a sentence.

"What?"

"Chris. Who is he? That's, like, the tenth time you've mentioned him today." Joey doesn't look away from the TV as he talks, hardly even looks that interested in the question, but he's still asking it. Which means that Darren still has to answer it.

It's not a hard question. It's not even a question Darren has to think about. He knows the answer. He just… Doesn't know if he wants _Joey_ to know the answer, as well.

Joey is the only person that knows about Darren's dreams, even though Darren has stopped bringing them up and Joey has probably assumed that they're no longer relevant. But even when they had talked about them, it had just been Darren bringing up a weird tidbit—when he'd been dreaming about the same nameless guy again and again and needed to share with someone how bizarre it was. But that was before, when that was all it was, when the dreams only happened once every other week.

Now, they're every night. Now, nameless dream guy _has_ a name, and a personality, and a past, and dreams for the future, and this one smile that melts Darren's insides like the center of chocolate lava cake. Now, his constant appearance isn't bizarre, it's life, and Chris is just as much apart of Darren's life as anyone else he knows.

But he's a dream. Even if he feels real to Darren, even if Darren is at the point where he's not even sure of that fact anymore, even if Darren spends the moments before he falls asleep staring at the ceiling and doubting the fact that he could create someone like Chris out of thin air. There aren't any other answers aside from Chris being an elaborate figment of Darren's subconscious, and yet… Darren can't believe that. He _won't_ believe that.

So what, exactly, does he tell Joey? That Chris is this guy Darren has only ever met in his dreams? Joey let's a lot of things roll off his back, but the possibility that his best friend might be losing it is not one of them. And Darren does kind of feel like he's losing it.

"Oh," Darren finally says, opening the fridge to rummage even though he isn't really looking for anything. He has no problem lying, can school his face and say anything and make it sound like the truth, but for some reason lying about Chris doesn't sit with him right. "Just this new guy at work. He's pretty cool. Hey, you want a beer?"

"Pretty cool, huh? I hope you don't have plans to replace me with a newer model," Joey jokes, and it makes Darren smile, even as the lie floats uncomfortably in his stomach. "And yeah. Hey, want to beat the shit out of each other in Super Smash Brothers?"

"Fuck yeah I do."

*

Dreams are weird. Things can happen in Darren's dreamworld that, obviously, could never happen in real life. Darren knows this, of course, but he also knows that while in said dream, he shouldn't be aware of the whole _this isn't possible_ factor.

And yet he is now. Maybe it's because all of his dreams are Chris dreams, and they never actually feel like dreams. It feels like Darren closes his eyes in his bedroom and then opens them up somewhere else far away, living another life somewhere amazing. A life with Chris.

Except Darren doesn't know of any places where the ocean is above them instead of the sky, and so he knows that he's asleep.

"I feel like we're going to drown," Chris comments, sounding slightly nervous. They both stare up into the sky as a whale swims by.

"I don't know, it looks pretty up there, but… I'm sure we could go somewhere else, if we wanted." Darren furrows his eyebrows as he says it. It's not something they've ever done before. The dream usual starts and ends all in the same place, but if it's Darren's dream, surely he has some control over what it looks like and what happens?

"Like where?" Chris asks, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Anywhere," Darren answers with a delighted grin. It's the kind of power he wishes he had in his actual life, and he loves that he has it here—that he can share it with Chris. "Where would you like to go?"

But Chris doesn't even answer before everything changes around them—not gradually, like a fade-in to a different scene, but with a POP! like a balloon. It takes a moment for Darren's eyes to adjust, blinking at what must be a sky even if it looks nothing like one.

"Clouds," Chris says in awe, looking around with wide eyes, and Darren finally looks around him.

"Or whipped cream," Darren teases, and is surprised when he swipes his hand through the white, puffy substance and is able to grab some.

"Both, apparently," Chris laughs, and Darren feels like a little kid.

"I bet they're bouncy." And, as if Darren's words will things into existence, the clouds have a sudden spring to them. Chris squawks, flailing his arms around but laughing as he tries to regain his balance, and Darren just watches him for a moment, longs for him to be closer, for—

And then Chris is there, looking just as surprised as Darren feels, before they fall together.

"I think we may have uncovered something dangerous," Darren jokes, still holding firmly onto Chris's elbows. Because Chris is _solid_ , Chris is there, and Darren doesn't want to let go.

"With great power comes great responsibility," Chris intones, seriously. Darren snorts.

"Okay, Spiderman."

Chris opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, and then shakes his head. "Come on." He slips from Darren's grasp, only to take hold of his hand. "Let's go down the slide." Chris starts to tug Darren toward the edge of the crowd.

"What slide?" Darren looks around, and then they're jumping off the cloud and straight into a vibrant red tube.

"This one!"

*

Darren wakes up with the same reluctance he does every morning, keeping his eyes closed like maybe sleep will come back. But he knows that, even if it does, Chris won't be there waiting for him.

He groans and sits up, rubbing at his eyes and running fingers through his hair as he recalls the dream in perfect, vivid detail. It makes him smile, especially when all he wants to do is curl up in his covers and tend to the ache that is always with him when he's not asleep these days. The ache for _Chris_ that he just can't get rid of.

But something niggles at the back of his mind, something about the dream that bothers him… But he can't put his finger on it.

*

It's amazing that when all Darren wants all day is to see Chris, to be with him, that they can spend their time just like this. They're sprawled out on a wooden raft that's floating—on water, on clouds, in space, it doesn't really matter. It's soothing. Darren wonders if you can sleep within a dream, because he feels like maybe he's about to.

Instead, he keeps his eyes open and looks at Chris. Chris, eyes closed but eyelashes flickering, the sun (bright white and in the shape of an "o") chasing all the freckles on his skin out of hiding.

"What?" Chris whispers after some amount of time—time never has meaning, not here. He doesn't open his eyes, doesn't even turn his head.

"Nothing." Darren reaches out and traces fingers up and down the revealed skin of Chris's arm, reveling in the touch. "I just like looking at you."

Chris opens his eyes slowly and turns his head, staring at Darren for a few long moments with a look on his face that tugs at Darren, and that he wants very badly to understand.

But then his face scrunches up in a laugh and he pulls his arm away from Darren's touch.

"And tickling me, apparently." Chris wiggles, and Darren dives at him, fingers ready to tickle. They roll and hit and tickle and laugh until they can't breathe. The raft isn't very big, but they never find the edge of it, never roll off. Darren thinks, it would end with him on top of Chris, panting. Being this close to Chris is what he wants, and it is his dream, after all.

It takes Chris longer to notice than Darren, little laughs still bubbling up from his throat as he calms down, and Darren's heart gives an almost painful roll as he realizes how hard he is falling for him, for this man who doesn't exist outside of his own head.

And then Chris meets his gaze, is still smiling, and Darren just… He doesn't care. There's no tentatively asked question, despite how cliché the moment is (Darren has always been kind of sappy). Darren just leans down, and kisses him.

It feels more real than any kiss that Darren has ever had.

*

Darren wakes up crying. His heart feels displaced from his body, and the tears don't stop. He claps a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes, tight. It's the shittiest he's felt in a long time.

He calls out sick from work, and spends all day in bed. He sleeps a few times, but Chris is never there.

And he hates himself, just a little, for letting it get this far. He's _falling in love_ with Chris, and he isn't… _Fuck_. He isn't even real. How did he let it get this far?

*

"Something's wrong." Chris says it instantly, and Darren is taken aback. There's no pretty scenery around them, today. Nothing to distract from this, from them. "Is it…" Chris closes his eyes, his arms wrapping around himself. In a space where both of them have always been so completely open, it hurts more than Darren expected to watch as Chris puts walls up around himself, as he closes himself off from Darren. "We shouldn't have kissed," Chris whispers. "That's it, isn't it? It's ruined now."

"No, that's not…" Darren's throat feels sick. He doesn't like break-ups, even the ones that are long overdue. He doesn't _like_ hurting other people.

But the only person he's hurting right now is himself. You can't break-up with someone who doesn't exist. All he can do is make the dreams stop before it gets worse.

"This isn't fair," Darren says, keeping his voice quiet. "I never asked for this."

Chris looks confused at first, and then hurt.

"And you think I _did_?" Chris's voice raises a little bit. The space around them is endless and white, but it feels smaller and suddenly darker even though it doesn't change at all. "I never asked for this, either, Darren. I never asked for _you_. But then you were here, and I couldn't… I couldn't stop."

Chris isn't making sense, and it just makes Darren feel more frustrated.

"You think I could? I thought I wanted to, but every night, all I could think about was you and here you were and it's not… It's not _real_ , Chris. You're not _real_. And I've tried so hard to ignore that, I really have, but I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind over this."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Chris looks taken aback.

"I'm talking about the fact that this, all of this? It's all a fucking dream… _You're_ a dream, Chris, and I'm still in love with you, and I can't _do_ this anymore."

Darren expects that to be it, like he said the magic (dooming) words and Chris will disappear in the blink of an eye.

He doesn't.

Chris is still there, staring at Darren with this incredulous look on his face and just as real as he's always been to Darren. It occurs to him that he just told Chris that he's in love with him, which would probably be a big deal if he didn't feel like he was _suffocating_.

"You're in love with me?" Chris's eyes are wide, his voice a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and awe. "You… You can't be in love with me." Chris is looking at Darren like he's crazy.

"Obviously, Chris. _Fucking obviously_." Darren doesn't want to be here anymore. Every second is like a taunt of what Darren wants and can never have, because it doesn't exist.

"…this is a dream," Chris finally says, hands balling into fists, and it's the kind of action that's usually paired with Chris looking away, distracting himself from a painful memory that he's about to share, a scar he's willfully showing to Darren. But he doesn't look away, stares straight at Darren. "But _I'm_ not." Chris closes his eyes, and they're glassy when he opens them again, like he's about to start crying. "You're a dream, Darren."

*

Darren sits up in bed, gasping. His head is spinning and he's throwing the blankets off his overheated body, stumbling to his feet and trying to get to the bathroom as fast as possible. Darren has had nightmares in the past, and that's exactly what it feels like he's recovering from—a nightmare. Unlike every other time he's woken up from a Chris dream, everything is already starting to get a little fuzzy, fading out of his memory like wisps of clouds, and Darren tries to grasp at them.

"Shit," he says into the darkness of the bathroom, and it echoes on the tiles. He runs the water and splashes it on his face, stares at where his reflection would be in the mirror if it was light enough to see it. What just happened? What did he just do? What… Fuck, what had Chris said?

He's scrambling back to bed, willing to see Chris again, to dream of him. He didn't mean it. He doesn't want it to be over. Darren _needs_ Chris, even if he can only ever have him in a world between falling asleep and waking up.

 _Please_ , he thinks as he closes his eyes. _Please let me dream of Chris_.

*

He wakes up the next morning and it feels like there's a gaping wound in his chest.

If Darren had dreamed about anything, he doesn't remember it.

And Darren always remembers Chris.

*

Every night, he hopes, and every morning, he wakes up with nothing to show for it. He gets pieces of dreams that are insignificant after his dreams of Chris—things that are outlandish or far too normal, none of them as real as his dreams have been for the last several months.

He tries to remember the last thing he said to Chris, that Chris said to him, and can't. It's the first time he hasn't been able to remember something, and he wonders if that's why he can't get back there.

Despite forgetting the last dream (he remembers that Chris had been about to cry, but he doesn't remember why or when it had happened), he still remembers all the others. He still remembers Chris. He remembers his face, and his voice, and his laugh, and his smile. He remembers how it felt to kiss him. Every memory reminds Darren of how lost he feels, an untethered balloon, and how hopelessly in love he is with someone he invented and also destroyed.

When he lays in bed, waiting for sleep, he stares at the ceiling and wonders if he did the best thing or if he _ruined_ the best thing he ever had.

Then, he wishes for Chris, and that's answer enough.

*

Joey makes him go to work. Joey makes him eat. Joey asks two questions, and when Darren makes it very clear he's not going to answer, Joey drops it. Darren is thankful, because he doesn't want to talk about it—doesn't know how to talk about it. There is no way to tell anyone that you've fallen in love with someone you invented while dreaming, that you then destroyed that person, and that you left yourself heartbroken.

So Darren doesn't tell anyone anything.

He knows how to pick up his life, to keep going, to keep smiling, and he'll do it again. It should be easier than any other time he's done it, but… It isn't. Darren has never associated _dreaming_ with someone who's left his heart to pieces, and it's hard not to be reminded of Chris every time his head hits the pillow.

For a few hours one night, when he's feeling desperate, he considers not sleeping at all… But the idea that Chris might be there, might be waiting for him, changes his mind.

"You're a fucking mess," Joey says to him one evening before he leaves for work, just getting back from his own job and starting to tug off his uniform.

"Thanks, Joe. That helps," Darren mutters, rubbing at his eyes. He's been sleeping more than ever, and yet he never feels rested. Darren doesn't remember his dreams these days, but he wonders if he spends them searching the mazes of his mind, looking for Chris. "Don't wait up, honey," Darren calls as he grabs his keys.

He works at a restaurant downtime, alternating shifts as a waiter and as an ambiance performer. It's not exactly a perfect job, but he makes a rather amazing amount of tips and so he can't complain. Plus, when he's tucked behind a piano in a corner, he doesn't have to smile as big or pretend as much. He can play slowed down, almost _sad_ , versions of songs, and make them sound classical enough that the managers are never on his back about it.

That night, Darren is on the piano from ten to close, his songs of choice a little more melancholy as he sings under his breath and doesn't pay attention to the world around him. Music is his best therapy and, surprisingly, working the piano shifts at work have been very therapeutic for him.

He's just finishing up John Mayer's "Dreaming with a Broken Heart," when he hears someone say, "Darren."

It's a good thing his fingers are off the keys at that point, otherwise he's sure he would make one of those awful discordant noises.

Because he _knows_ that voice. He remembers it.

"Holy fuck," he whispers, looking up. "I've lost it. I'm hallucinating now." Because there is Chris, right there in front of him. "Or I'm dreaming. Is this a dream?" Did he get it back somehow?

"Is that piano made of chocolate?" Chris asks, and Darren almost _bites_ the piano to check, but… No. It isn't. The piano is the same way it's always been, in the year and a half that Darren has been playing it.

"So hallucination then. Cool." Darren closes his eyes and sighs.

"Dare… Darren." Chris's hand curves over Darren's shoulder, and Darren's eyes fly open. "I'm real. You're real. _This_ is real."

"I… What? _How?_ " Darren gawks at him.

"I… Haven't really figured that part out yet." Chris makes a face. "But after all of the things you said in our last conversation, it just… I knew something was off. I had to figure it out."

"I don't understand. How did you find me? Why are you here?" Darren seems to realize where they are and decides that he's due for a break, so he stands up and then tugs Chris from the room as inconspicuously as possible.

"I realized that you mentioned it before. Where you worked. When you had, I hadn't even—I thought it was just made up. How could someone I invented have a job outside of my head?" Chris seems amused. "Also one time you said that my name was your name, too, but then you started singing and it sort of threw me off but… Let's just say it's been a research intensive couple of days." Chris starts to talk a little faster, the way he does when he gets a little hysterical, and it's that more than everything else that is happening in that moment that pulls Darren up short.

He still _knows_ Chris. The Chris in his head and this Chris… Darren stares at him.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to believe this," Darren breathes. "I want to. I really do. But I don't… I don't understand how this is possible. How could we dream about each other?"

"Like I said, I haven't figured that out yet. And I know I can't really convince you, aside from being myself, but I do… I do have something to say to you, that I didn't get to before." Chris steps closer, and it's different and familiar at the same time. In Darren's dreams, or _their_ dream as it turns out, Chris had had presence, body heat. Darren had been able to touch him.

But this? _God_ , Chris is _real_.

"What's that?" Darren whispers, and he stares at Chris's mouth without any shame.

"I'm in love with you, too."

 _I'm still in love with you_.

How could Darren have forgotten he said that? And Chris is… Chris is _real_. It's not a dream. He's not  a dream. Darren loves him, and he loves Darren, and isn't this where happily ever afters come from? Moments like this?

" _God_ ," is all Darren manages to say before he's kissing Chris, pulling him closer, hands running over as much as he can touch. And since kissing Chris in a dream had been better than any kiss he'd ever experienced, kissing Chris while they're both awake? There aren't words.

"So I guess," Chris says as they break apart, "There really is something to having a dream guy, huh?"

And Darren laughs out an, "I fucking love you," before kissing him again.


End file.
